[Fortescue sits on the edge of the bed with a smile. She tries not to think about it much, right now, the people she killed. But there's no denying it, not really. Some of them deserved it; she'd seen how the tyrants had treated the people around them. But some of them? Maybe she wasn't given all the right information.

Who knows, now.]

No trouble. [She winks, sips her wine.] Alcohol fixes a lot of problems. Glass bottles don't make good crutches, but I'm not known for my good decisions.